


Change the Sky

by sg_wonderland



Series: Change the Sky [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack always gets the blame for the deterioration of the Jack/Daniel relationship, but what if it wasn’t his fault?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change the Sky

They change their sky, not their soul, who run beyond the sea.-Homer

 

 

The damnedest thing about it is that I still don’t know why he did it. Why Daniel disappeared, just out of the blue, seemingly on a whim. But we know now that it wasn’t out of the blue and definitely not on a whim, it just seemed so to us. After he failed to show up at the mountain that Tuesday, we headed to his apartment and found out that it was empty of everything personal. All of Daniel’s clothes, books, pictures were gone; furniture was all that was left; that and a cold emptiness that created echoed footsteps throughout the rooms. His laptop was sitting in its usual place on his desk; Carter soon discovered that the hard drive had been carefully removed.

On the counter in the kitchen, we found the keys. Keys to his truck, to his apartment, my house, his key card to the mountain. And keys to a storage unit, which we later found was full of neatly labeled boxes of books, pictures, personal items. Everything we thought meant something to Daniel had been left behind.

By that time, we were beyond frantic. I called Hammond and got a team to go over the apartment, but they came up with nothing. 

Because the first thing you look for is the money trail, Hammond ordered an investigation of Daniel’s financial records and that’s when we got the first clue. His checking account and most of his saving accounts had been transferred overseas. Untraceable. The only two that hadn’t been transferred had been closed out just a couple of days before, so he had lots of cash on hand.

At the SGC, we found he had catalogued and tagged every single thing in his office and finished his backlog of work, an impressive feat just in itself. That was clue number two that Daniel had done this with deliberation, with thought, with planning. We still don’t know why.

*

I can’t keep my mind from going back to the last night I saw him. The Friday before he split, they were all at my house for dinner. He and Carter got giggly and dug out one of my old photo albums and proceeded to make fun of my previous hairdos and fashion sense, which they both pronounced as horrible. Everything was fine, he seemed fine. He often gets his little quiet spells and if he had one that night, I cannot honestly say I remember. 

Nothing about that night sticks out as unusual. He didn’t seem any different. He hugged Carter before he left, but he always does that. Now that I think about it, he might even have hugged Teal’c, but he will occasionally do that also. I honestly don’t know if he hugged me or if I said good-night or even said anything to him that wasn’t a smart-ass comment. I remember that he shrugged off my suggestion he stay the night, saying he wasn’t drunk. Nothing, absolutely nothing that I can remember gave me any indication that he never intended coming back.

Teal’c is beyond livid and suggested that we hunt for Daniel Jackson immediately. I calmly asked him where we should start. “No, seriously, T. You tell me where and I’m on a plane there. Egypt? First place we’ll look so he’d never head there. Off-world? Unless he’s learned how to make himself invisible, he didn’t leave through the Gate.”

Our original fear was that someone had snatched him and was covering their tracks by making it look as if Daniel had planned it all. We have thoroughly investigated and have come to the conclusion he did indeed plan this and had been doing so for about six months. That’s when his mission reports started coming in complete, letter perfect, and on time. And that’s when he subtly began shifting responsibility to the linguistic staff, the archaeological staff. All of his personal journals since he joined the SGC had found their way out of his apartment and back to base; he must have brought them back one by one, in that pack he always carries.

His spending habits also changed drastically; he began seriously saving money and not buying three-thousand-dollar books and shit like that. I was astonished when I found out just how much he had squirreled away; if he lives right, he will literally never have to work another day. Which might have been his aim, because working means you have to deal with pesky stuff like Social Security numbers and W2s, all of which are traceable. 

I have been in a state of perpetual shock these past five days. I can’t believe it’s only been five days since Daniel left us. And I still don’t know why.

*

When Hammond summons me to his office, I hurry, thinking, maybe, just maybe, he’s got some good news. What he’s got is Daniel’s resignation, which he just received in the mail today. Clever, clever Daniel. He had to slip it in the mail Saturday afternoon, knowing Monday was a legal holiday, the mail wouldn’t leave the drop box until Tuesday and we wouldn’t get it here before Wednesday or Thursday. We can do the timeline now, knowing that he left my house on Friday, mailed the letter on Saturday after which he simply disappeared. That’s where we draw a blank. He’s had nearly a week’s head start on us. He picked a helluva time to start listening to all those things I’ve been teaching him.

I take the letter and sit slowly, reading it, absorbing every word.

Dear General Hammond, 

I want you to know before I say anything else, that working with you has been the single greatest honor of my life. You always treated me with dignity and respect, even when I didn’t return the favor, when I didn’t deserve it. I will never, ever, forget that and I thank you.

Something has come up in my personal life and I find I cannot continue working for the SGC anymore. I wish with all my heart that it were possible to go back and change things, but I know better than anyone how truly permanent the past is.

So it is with a heavy heart that I herby resign my position with the SGC and the United States Air Force effective immediately.

Please tell Jack, Sam and Teal’c how sorry I am that I cannot say good-bye face to face. And that I will never forget them either.

Sincerely,  
Dr. Daniel Jackson

“What the hell does he think he’s doing?”

“I was hoping you could enlighten me, Colonel. Have you noticed anything different in the past six months?” That is the yardstick we are currently using to measure Daniel’s disappearance.

“Sir, I’ve racked my brain to figure out where this started, what happened. And I got nothing. Sure, Daniel and I had our differences of opinion, and this past six months were no different. In fact, just last week…”

“I remember, Colonel, as does half the commissary staff.” Even the general chuckled when he heard about that shouting match. I apologized over and over for the mashed potatoes on the wall, didn’t I? “Colonel, we’ve talked to no one who was aware that Dr. Jackson was preparing to run. He seems to have confided in no one.”

Not even me. The good general kindly leaves the words unsaid. He knows that Daniel would have come to me, dammit, should have come to me the minute something came up that he couldn’t handle. We’ve looked back with a magnifying glass and not one thing happened in the past six months to raise a red flag. Not even Catherine has heard from him and she is beyond angry about it. Mostly at me, because she figures whatever happened, it has to be my fault. When Daniel turns back up, I look forward to letting her tear a strip off him. That is, if there’s anything left when I get through with him.

*

 

Today is my birthday. I convinced the general to give me the day off, because in all the time we have been friends, Daniel has never, ever, missed mine or Carter’s birthdays. On the odd occasion he wasn’t in town, he either dialed in from some distant planet or from a not so distant DC. So, I am convinced he will call me. I know he will. He has to. My phone is tapped and if he makes the call, when he makes the call, we will have him.

It has been six weeks and all we have now are vague clues, shadows that may have been Daniel. He has to still be in the states, it would take a passport to enter another country and we have his locked up in the mountain. Carter theorized that he didn’t try to get it for fear of raising suspicion.

His storage unit was very big, much too large for what he had in there, so we have surmised that he had a vehicle hidden in there. He couldn’t wipe the hard drive from his work computer and Carter has found a couple of things there that may help us. He cruised a few archaeology websites-what a shocker-and we wonder if he might have headed to one of those. We’ve been checking on the most obvious ones, so far without a hit. None of his old archaeology buddies are talking; they either don’t know anything or are protecting him.

When my phone finally rings, I force myself not to answer it on the first ring. Maybe they can get a trace on it. I let it ring five times before I snatch it up. “Hello?” There is nothing on the other side, but I feel him through the lines. “Daniel? Dammit, I know it’s you, say something!” I can hear him breathing. “Daniel, I’m gonna find you, you have to know that. I’m not giving up.”

Finally, finally, he speaks. “Please, Jack, don’t. Just let it go. Let me go.”

“Can’t do that, Daniel. You of all people should know that I don’t let go, I don’t give up. So, fair warning, I’m coming after you. Nothing, nothing, is so bad that we can’t work through it, I promise you.” The phone clicks as he hangs up. “Dammit to hell!” I hang up and dial the mountain from my cell as I hit the door. “Did you get it?”

“Yes, sir, we got a trace. Colonel? The call came from Colorado Springs.”

Colorado Springs? What the hell? The son of a bitch never left town? “Where?” I shout as I start the truck. The technician spouts out a downtown address, informs me that it’s a phone kiosk at the mall. I know, I know that he’ll be gone by the time I get there, but, so help me, I’ve at least got to try.

*

No one at the mall remembers seeing a tall, brown-haired man using the phone. I have just about used the last of my patience when the mall guard taps my shoulder and points helpfully at the corner. And that’s when I see it.

The security camera.

*

“Freeze it, right there!” And we have Daniel, bigger than life, dressed in very casual jeans, sweater, and a pair of well-worn combat boots. Knowing what he’s wearing now, we can finally pick him out in the parking lot, see him get in a VW Bug, and as he drives away, the camera freezes on the license plate. A few taps of the keyboard enlarges the picture. Bingo, we’ve got his number.

*

The car is licensed to Daniel Jackson, downtown address, which turns out to be his favorite bookstore. The vehicle is insured, but it’s one of those on-line insurance companies so that’s a dead end since he paid the bill with a credit card. And it’s paid up for a year. We can’t get the cops on him since he hasn’t broken any law. It’s not illegal for an adult to simply get up and walk away from his life.

 

*

At least we’ve got something to go on now. And we know Daniel is okay. He looks a bit rough in the tape, but that shouldn’t surprise anyone. He’s been living who knows where, doing who knows what for the past six weeks. The fact that he’s not driving his usual truck tells me he’s in a town, not up in the mountains.

Fraiser is worried he isn’t taking his allergy meds; the over the counter stuff stopped working for him years ago. He is either seeing a doctor or he’s not getting them. I’m praying for the former.

“Colonel, I’ve been thinking.” Carter gently pats my shoulder as she walks by me. I’m not even going to ask her how she knew to find me in Daniel’s old office. “We’ve been looking at the past six months, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“In the past six months, Daniel knew he was going to do this, he planned it.”

“So?”

“So, he gave us all the signs, sir, and we didn’t even see them.” She takes a deep breath, then confesses. “I looked at Daniel’s Blackberry. We, as a team, have gotten together exactly four times in that time period. Daniel started begging off; he had to work late, he was tired, you were tired, his allergies were acting up. Sir, he pulled away from us and we didn’t even notice.”

I’m stunned and I suppose my expression reflects it. I try to speak and can’t get a word out. “Sir, I’m not trying to get personal or anything, but how long has it been since Daniel stayed at your house overnight? He used to do that all the time, but I’ll bet if you think back, you’ll find it’s been at least six months. Daniel didn’t just leave us, sir, we let him leave.”

*

Another four weeks have passed and it’s Thanksgiving. It kills me to know that wherever Daniel is he is alone on a day that he should be with family. I insisted that Carter and T come over and we fix turkey and watch football and pretend that our hearts aren’t broken.

*

When the doorbell rings, we all just stare at each other, I see the light in their eyes. And we are all thinking the same thing. It’s Daniel. I dash to the door, jerk it open and find not Daniel, but General Hammond. He just shakes his head, smiles sadly and comes in at my invitation. He greets Carter and Teal’c, shakes his head at my offer of a drink. “I just stopped for a minute, Jack. This past week has been pretty hectic and I just got around to going through my mail this evening. I thought this,” he pulls out an envelope, “was unusual, since Nancy was coming to dinner anyway. When I opened it, well, I found out although it had her return address, it wasn’t from her. It’s from Dr. Jackson. I haven’t read it, just found the note asking me to bring it to you.” He pats my shoulder as he walks away, stops at the door. “Jack? Let me know?”

I rip open the envelope.

Dear Jack,

I hope you are okay. I know you are worried about me, but I am taking care of myself. I know that you are hunting for me and I know that I should never have called you, but I had to hear your voice. Just once more.

I have thought and thought about what to do, I know you meant it when you said you were coming for me. So I’m just going to tell you the truth and you will realize this is how it has to be.

You know that thing with Sam, when you said you cared about her far more than you are supposed to? I’m glad that I didn’t fail the first test because if they had re-tested me, I would have failed that one, too. I care about all of you far more than I ever should have, certainly ever intended to. 

I’m sure you’re asking yourself, so what? The what is that I think I have come to care for you in a way that I am not supposed to, far more than just friends should ever care. And I know how dangerous that could be for you, regardless of whether you felt the same way.

Back in the spring, I ran into General Hammond’s daughter, Nancy, in the mall and we had a cup of coffee. She told me that her father was retiring in the next year and she joked about how would I be able to stand having you for a boss? I asked her if it was a done deal and she told me nothing was ever done until all the i’s had been dotted and the t’s crossed. And then there’s the background check, which I understand is quite extensive. Even though he was a general at the time, Nancy said that they (men in dark suits and sunglasses, I assume) did a very thorough check to make sure he was suitable for the command he was being offered.

Afterwards, it hit me what would happen if anyone (the suits again) found out how I felt about you. SG-1 would probably have been disbanded, your command would have been out the window, not to mention the rest of your career. I couldn’t be responsible for that, I just couldn’t. I know just how much your career matters to you. Not to mention that I would be giving certain Washington folks all the ammunition they’d need to hurt you.

I thought I could handle it and God knows, I tried, I honestly tried. I foolishly thought I could just crawl back into my shell and everything would be alright. But that didn’t work; I couldn’t handle living the lie anymore. So I took the coward’s way out and ran. 

Jack, I’m begging you to please stop, just let go. Even if I wanted to come back, I can’t, don’t you see? I don’t have any choice. 

Please tell Sam and Teal’c that I love them and that I am sorry that I didn’t tell you all good-bye. But the truth is if I had, I would never have left, I couldn’t have faced you guys.

Burn this letter after you read it. I never want to be used as evidence against you.

Goodbye,   
Daniel

 

“Son of a bitch! I’m gonna kick his ass all over Colorado when I catch up with him!”

“Sir?” Carter is at my side in a heartbeat. “What did he say? Did he tell you what happened?”

I take a minute to catch my breath. “We have to find him before he does something...” I can’t even say the words.

Her face loses all color. “Sir, you don’t think he would….?” Make that two of us who can’t say it.

“O’Neill, do you believe Daniel Jackson to be suicidal?” Only brave one in the bunch.

“Under ordinary circumstances, I would say an emphatic ‘no’, but Daniel isn’t exactly thinking clearly. I can’t tell you what he said in the letter, that’s private. All I can say is that we have to find him.”

The rest of the day passes in a gloom as we try to figure out what to do next.

*

The Monday after Thanksgiving, the bottom drops out of our world. Carter’s buddy at the FBI calls her to let her know an Egyptian citizen by the name of Daniel Jackson boarded a flight for Cairo on Thanksgiving morning, but never made it. When the plane had a lay over in Paris, he didn’t re-board.

“How the hell did he get a passport?” His is in my desk drawer, I know because I just checked.

“He produced his birth certificate. Sir, we forgot he has dual citizenship since he was born in Egypt. It was easy enough for him to get a duplicate passport. All he had to say was that his had been lost or destroyed. If he had his birth certificate and his driver’s license, it would have been no problem. And he knew we would be looking for an American citizen. Easy enough for him to say he was Egyptian by birth, because he was.”

“But Paris? Why the hell didn’t he go on to Cairo?”

“You said yourself, O’Neill, that Daniel Jackson knew that his birth land would be our primary target.”

*

And even though I hate to, I agree with the general that we need to stop looking for Daniel. Actually, he made a very good point. Daniel knows that we will have to stop at some point, that we can’t keep this up indefinitely. Given that, maybe Daniel will relax a bit, poke his head up somewhere at some dig and then we’ll have him. I don’t see him not being able to work at something, he’s not the sitting at home type. So the Air Force officially stops its unofficial search for one missing senior civilian consultant and lists him as on indefinite leave from active service.

*

It’s coming up on six months since we last saw Daniel and even though we aren’t actively seeking him, we are still keeping feelers out for him. And we’ve gotten a few hits. His Air Force email is still active and although he hasn’t used it, it has been accessed a few times, so we know he’s checking it. People who know how to track that sort of thing tell us he is in Europe, probably still in France. So I started sending emails to him, hoping he’s reading them. Telling him what’s going on, how everyone is doing, how we miss him.

The SGC didn’t break down but has struggled since he left. I honestly don’t think he realized how we relied on him, but then, none of us did either. There were a couple of worlds we might have made allies with if we’d had him as a translator, but that’s not the kind of thing I tell him. I want him to come back because he wants to, not because he is feeling guilty.

In one of those quirks of life, because of Daniel’s absence General Hammond decided not to retire as planned. I’m still in the field and as far as I know, am not in consideration for the command at the SGC. I’ve refused to let them assign a permanent replacement for Daniel; we take a fourth out if something requires it, but most of the time, it’s the three of us.

Teal’c is still furious at Daniel and I think when we find him, I will let T have the first crack at him. Carter is sad and confused, she still can’t believe he walked away. Catherine won’t even speak to me, I called her a couple of times and she hung up on me.

I’ve tried not to think about his confession, what he said drove him to run. I know that I love him, and I always will. Do I love him the way he thinks he loves me? I honestly don’t know. I do know that I’ve missed him terribly these past few months, sometimes I wake up thinking everything is alright and when I walk into the briefing room, he’ll be there impatiently waiting for me, eyes lively because of something remarkable he has just discovered and just has to share with me. 

*

I’m in the gym, working with Teal’c, critiquing some recruits when I get a call that the general wants to see me, immediately. Leaving T to do his best, I hurry up without even changing out of my sweats. The general is on the phone and motions me to a chair.

“Are you one hundred percent certain it’s him?” He nods. “Good, I’ll take your word for it. I can have someone on a plane within the hour.” 

A glimmer of hope springs within me. “General? What gives?”

“That was a friend of mine at the Pentagon. A couple of hours ago, an armed man took hostages in a Paris museum. There was a group of students there on a field trip. According to the Pentagon, one of the hostages is the students’ American teacher.”

“Daniel?”

“It would seem so. The French government has acknowledged to the State Department that a Dr. Jackson is on staff at the school there. They’ve got a hostage negotiator trying to reason with the man. There’s a flight to Paris out of Chicago we can get you on. If you want to.” I’m already heading for the door.

*

We’re in Paris before the end of the day. General Hammond has been busy pulling lots of strings and I was joined in New York by Major Paul Davis who, big shock, speaks fluent French. 

Our first stop is what I suppose is their equivalent of police headquarters, where they are reluctant to let two pushy Americans horn in on their crime scene. Davis doesn’t back down and I don’t know what he said, but they suddenly couldn’t be more helpful, getting an officer to take us to the scene with considerable bowing and scraping. 

“What’d you say to them?” I ask him as we careen through the night-time streets of Paris, a sight I would love to see in different circumstances.

“I told them the American First Lady has a very soft spot for Dr. Jackson and if they let someone put a bullet into him, their President was going to hear it in excruciating detail.” Despite the situation, I have to grin. Mrs. Hartman scares even me and it is true, she adores Daniel. A former university president, I’ll bet she is thrilled to know he is now teaching; she thought he was frankly wasted working with a bunch of military pin-heads. I believe that was a direct quote.

*

Paul launches into a spirited discussion with the commanding officer of this little operation. Did I say little? The entire block has been successfully evacuated and cordoned off. There are dozens of cops milling around the building. Parents have been sequestered off-site and I can’t even imagine their agony. I feel for them, I just want to see my loved one walking out of that building hale and healthy, that’s all any of us want.

Paul wanders back over to me. “The guy, Charles, is pissed because his wife is divorcing him. Evidently, one of the kids is his son and the cops think it was a botched kidnapping. They confirm that Daniel is in there and he’s been serving as a go between.” That shocks neither of us. How many times has he gotten between us and folks who wanted to blow us up? “The guy just agreed to let them send some more food in.”

“He make a trade for the food?” That’s how it’s supposed to go. You give something, you get something in return.

“Yeah, he’s letting some more kids go. They’ll be out when the food gets here.”

*

That part of it goes like clockwork. Some boxes of food arrive, a plain clothes cop takes them in and comes back with about a dozen kids. They are hustled into a police van and rushed from the scene amid camera flashes. Yes, the press has arrived with flood lights and cameras and people asking stupid questions. We sidle over to the cops and learn that there are only two hostages left, the man’s son and Daniel, who tried to get the guy to keep him instead of his kid. I swallow a lump of fear; tell myself that if anyone can talk the guy around, it’s Daniel.

*

It’s nearly dawn and there has been ominous silence for the past four hours. Neither Daniel nor the guy have picked up the phone. We haven’t heard any gunfire and that is the only thing keeping these guys from storming the building. 

All of a sudden, the activity level cranks way up. Cops are running toward the building, falling into line on either side of the doorway. 

The door opens. And Daniel comes out, clutching a child for all he’s worth. The cops are on him in a heartbeat, jerking the kid away from him and separating them. I tell myself these guys are only doing their job; they can’t be one hundred percent sure he is a victim and not the kidnapper. Daniel immediately cooperates, puts his hands up where they can see them as they frisk him while the cameras capture every move. I try to push my way over and Paul wisely stops me.

“Colonel O’Neill, let them do their job. He’s okay, they’re not going to hurt him.” By this time, the cops have flooded the building and pretty soon, they come out dragging a guy whose hands are cuffed behind his back. The cameras flash again before the man is shoved into a police car, and, just like that, it’s all over.

I pull away from Paul and head over to the ambulance where they’ve got Daniel and the kid stashed. I’m getting in there, I don’t carry how many skulls I have to bash in. Fortunately, Paul follows and smoothes a path for me. I walk around the back and there Daniel sits on the bumper, his face the approximate color of flour, the kid clinging to him, blankets wrapped around both of them. 

I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my whole life.

“Morning, Daniel.”

His head jerks up in surprise and he loses even more color. “J...Jack?” He stutters.

“Expecting someone else?” I have to have a hug, thoroughly smashing a very scared kid in the middle.

“Jack?” His voice finally gets through and I release him to sit.

I make myself take a deep breath, before I smile at the kid. He looks to be about six and his freckles are the only spot of color on his face. “Introduce me to your friend, Dr. Jackson?”

He speaks softly to the kid, the French flowing smoothly from his tongue. “Jack, this is Philippe Rousseau. Philippe, this is my very good friend, Colonel Jack O’Neill, but you can just call him Jack.”

“Jacques?” The little voice pipes up.

I grin at him. “That’s good enough.” I look over his head at Daniel, who mouths the word ‘mother’ and I nod. “So, Dr. Jackson is your teacher, huh? Pretty mean, is he?” Daniel translates and the little boy shakes his head vehemently, sputtering an obvious protest.

“He says I am the best teacher he has ever had.” Daniel’s eyes still manage to twinkle despite the circumstance.

We spend another few minutes in conversation, finding that Philippe and I have a love of flying in common until one of the cops informs us, or so Daniel translates, that the mother is meeting us at the hospital. The kid has Daniel in a death grip and he’s not letting go. I reluctantly leave the ambulance, promising Daniel we’ll be right behind them on the way to the hospital.

We make quite a convoy rushing through the Paris streets, the cops escort the ambulance, we’re a couple of cars back and the reporters are hot on all of our trails. The ambulance gets waved into the emergency entrance and Paul and I hop out of the car to follow the gurneys inside. I have to grin as Daniel protests. I don’t speak French but I can just guess he is telling them there’s nothing wrong with his legs. The kid squeaks when they slide them into separate bays, but then we hear a woman cry out and realize the mother is here. 

I sneak into Daniel’s cubicle and sit down, daring anyone to send me away. A very pretty nurse comes in, starts chattering away to Daniel, who looks affronted. I wish for the hundredth time that I spoke French. But I get the gist of what’s going on when she lays a hospital gown pointedly on the gurney; between her tone and her pointed finger, I am ordered to vacate the premises. Immediately.

I end up in the doctor’s lounge with the other cops; Paul informs me that the waiting room is jammed with reporters. “So what happened? Thanks.” He hands me a cup of coffee and I wince after I drink. We’re in Paris, you’d think the coffee would be wonderful. It’s not.

“From what I can understand, Dr. Jackson just waited until the guy, Charles, fell asleep and tied him to a library table with his belt.”

The best hostage stand-off you can hope for. Everyone walks away without a shot fired. But, that’s Daniel for you. “When this whole story breaks, he’s gonna be a pretty big guy around here.”

Paul agrees. “The publicity is not something Dr. Jackson is going to enjoy, that’s certain.”

“Maybe he’d agree to let someone, say the Air Force, whisk him out of the country. Shit! I need to call Hammond.” I whip my phone out and dial the SGC. I have no idea what time it is there, but I’d be willing to guess the general is still chained to his desk. He is, and he’s happy to hear his boy is safe and sound. And promises to arrange transport, if needs be. “Let me get back to you on that, sir. We’re at the hospital, they just want to check Daniel out; I doubt they will keep him. Yes, sir, back to the hotel. I’m not letting him out of my sight again.”

*

It’s actually hours later that we, Paul, Daniel and I, finally make it to the hotel after swinging by the police station so Daniel can give a statement. He wanted to go to his apartment, but I vetoed that idea quickly. Remember what I said about letting him out of my sight? “I’m guessing the reporters have that staked out already.” He sighs and precedes me into the suite. 

“So I suppose taking a shower is out of the question?” He asks waspishly.

“Let me just check it for escape routes.” I annoy him by actually looking into the bathroom to see if it has any windows. It doesn’t. “Ok, you’re clear.” I hand him a robe, just grinning when he slams the door behind him. “Just a bit out of sorts,” I shrug at Paul, who’s on the hotel phone. Probably ordering food. At least I hope so. I just realized that I could probably eat. 

He actually ordered food and some clothes from the downstairs boutique for Daniel. So when he gets out of the shower, there’s underwear, socks, a couple of pairs of jeans and soft cotton shirts waiting for him. He emerges fully dressed, his hair damp around his now flushed face. 

I look at him, really look at him, as he sits to chat with Paul. Yes, he is handsome; no wonder the nurses at the hospital were fluttering their false eyelashes at him. His hair curls now that he doesn’t keep it rigidly cut; I wonder how he kept it under control when it was really long? The soft blue eyes, highlighted by square silver frames. The mouth. I spend a lot of time looking at that mouth. Would I like to kiss that? I realize I’m not exactly opposed to the idea.

I am stupidly glad for Paul’s presence. Because I realize Daniel is avoiding looking at me altogether. Neither of us thought we would end up where we are. He’s thoroughly embarrassed because of the way he feels. And if I’m honest, I’m also more than a bit uncomfortable. Yeah, we’re gonna have to talk. But this is neither the time nor the place for that. So we let Paul be the buffer between us until we can regain our equilibrium.

*

The stress of the day is getting to Daniel, who is fading fast. I grab his arm. “Come on, bedtime for little boys.” He flushes and his eyes fire, gearing himself up for an argument. “Yeah, I know it’s early. But you need to rest; you haven’t slept for two whole days.” I refrain from saying it shows.

“I need to touch base with the police, tie up some loose ends.” Paul stands. “Dr. Jackson, it’s nice to see you safe and sound. The President asked me to tell you he hopes you’ll be rejoining the SGC.” He smiles as he prepares to leave.

Because I know it will annoy him, I follow him into the bedroom, where he surprisingly doesn’t object to kicking off his shoes, putting his glasses on the nightstand before lying down on the huge bed. I walk over to close the windows. “Leave them. For now anyway.” He rolls over so that he is facing those windows.

“Sorry.” After the two days he has had, I can certainly understand the need to breathe a little. I lounge in the spacious window seat, just enjoying the silence.

“Jack.”

“Go to sleep.” Despite his protest, it’s not long before he’s snoring softly. I close one of the windows, tuck the covers around him and leave.

*

The next morning, the papers and the TV news are full of the story. Carter called and said it was all over the American news too, crediting Daniel with the peaceful end to the situation. Judging by her cool tone, I realize I maybe should have called her and Teal’c instead of letting Hammond pass the glad tidings along and I’ll probably catch hell when we get home. But then, I’m sure Daniel’s gonna get an earful also. Well, they can all just get in line, because I get first crack at Dr. Daniel Jackson, who is still sleeping peacefully in my bed, while Paul and I made do with the other bedroom and a fold-out couch. I thought about just crawling in with Daniel and in any other circumstance I would probably have done so without a second thought. But at this point in time, I don’t think he’d take it too well if he woke up in bed with me, however innocuous it was.

Paul tells me over an excellent breakfast that Philippe’s mother would like to thank Daniel personally. And the French police have, so far, been able to keep a lid on where Daniel might be hiding out. As I figured, his apartment is staked out. It won’t be long before some enterprising reporter puts it together and starts trying to track down why two Air Force officers, one of whom is a Pentagon liaison, just happened to be in the middle of last night’s drama. I’m guessing we may have a day before we get discovered. Best we be ready to leave Paris today. 

*

Loath as I am to wake him, Paul informs me as he hangs up the phone, that the police want to talk to Daniel again this morning. I get the job of waking him up, usually a thankless task. He, however, takes it pretty well, grabbing the clean clothes I hand him and stumbling into the bathroom. Not too much longer he emerges, clean and damp but possibly not totally awake. He ignores the leftover breakfast and indulges in several cups of some damn fine coffee. “Now I know why you hid out here in France.” His eyebrows query me. “The coffee. You stayed here for the coffee.”

Inexplicably, he grins at me. “Caught me.”

 

*

We spend the next several hours at the police station. Daniel easily charms the locals with his effortless French and his refusal to play the hero. His main concern was, and still is, Philippe, who is home with his mother and doing very well, considering. The police chief, or whatever they call them here, is gearing up for a press conference, which Daniel does not want to attend, but probably will anyway.

My cell rings while we’re there and with a sadistic smile, I hand the phone over to Daniel, just telling him someone wants to speak with him. “Hey, good to hear from you. I’m fine, Sam.” His face blanches suddenly. “Oh, hi, Teal’c.” He nods like Teal’c can see him. “No, I’m fine, really. No, that wasn’t my intention at all. I’m not really sure about that, Teal’c.” Eyeing me, he nods again. “Although it looks like it from where I’m sitting now. Yeah, okay.” Handing me the phone back, “Teal’c,” he tells me, quite unnecessarily.

“O’Neill. Daniel Jackson says that he is uncertain if he is returning. Do you require assistance in transporting him home?”

“Much as I’d love to see that, T, I think we’ll pass for now.” Because I know Daniel can hear and I live to annoy him, I add. “But stay on alert just in case you are needed for a retrieval mission, okay?”

Philippe and his mother come in and I enjoy the hell out of a thoroughly embarrassed Daniel getting his face kissed repeatedly and enthusiastically. He initially refuses to attend the press conference and only reluctantly gives in because of his concern not only for Philippe and the other students, but also for the boy’s father.

*

Paul and I join some other cops in a large conference room where we are provided with some truly excellent coffee and comfortable seats for the televised press conference. Daniel sits quietly as the police re-cap what happened and answer questions. Then he steps up to the microphone.

I have heard that the camera loves some people and never really thought about what it meant. But Daniel blooms on camera. His eyes, whether it’s because of his plain white cotton shirt or the lights, seem much bluer. And when he opens his mouth and speaks with his soft voice, well, I can hear the women sighing over the airwaves. He loves language and it shows; he speaks French beautifully. Paul translates for me, that Daniel is expressing concern for Philippe, the rest of his students and asking people not to rush to judgment of his father, saying he was a troubled man who made a huge mistake. When a brazen female reporter asks if he intends to remain in Paris permanently, he blushes and fumbles and admits he doesn’t know what his plans are. I figure she’s a hair away from asking him for either his phone number or his blood type. Again with the sighs. He once more refuses to take the mantle of hero, saying he was only doing what anyone else would have done.

*

I resist the urge to tease Daniel when he comes back in, although several of the officers shake his hand and some are even bold enough to salute him with a kiss on each cheek. His face is even redder than it was before. I hand him a cup of coffee as we wait for Paul to tie up any loose ends. 

“You know if this comes to a trial, you’re gonna have to come back and testify?”

He sighs loudly and buries himself in his coffee.

Paul comes back to let us know that we have a flight out of Paris later today. Daniel gets that mule stubborn look on his face that tells me we are about to have a knock-down drag-out fight, when something comes over him and he just surrenders. Agrees to go to his apartment and pack, to leave Paris, agrees to go back to Colorado, hell, he agrees to everything. And I am instantly suspicious. When he acquiesces so quickly, it almost always means there is something else going on in that busy brain of his. I honestly think about calling Teal’c and having him and Carter come over and help escort him home. I talk myself out of it and promise to keep a very, very close eye on him.

 

*

The police get us through the maze of reporters so we can get into his apartment, which is small and not quite how I’m used to seeing Daniel live. It was clean enough but there was no life in it at all, there was a coldness, a bare feeling that was so unlike Daniel that I wonder how he lived here. What I soon realize is that he wasn’t living, he was just here, but his heart wasn’t truly in it. He had left that in Colorado Springs along with everything else.

We pack everything and frankly, it doesn’t take too long. He has clothes, personal items, a laptop, not nearly as many books as I’m used to seeing. Paul had commandeered a couple of Marines from the American Embassy and they quickly cart everything away and on to the airport. Daniel keeps only his laptop with him, locking the door behind him, apparently willing to leave this life behind. I am even more suspicious than ever.

*

The flight from Paris is very, very long. Made even more so because my companion either won’t or can’t speak to me. He pretends to sleep most of the way.

Paul leaves us in New York, shakes Daniel’s hand and wishes him well. We proceed on to Colorado, via Chicago, because no matter where you’re going, you have to go to Chicago to get there.

We don’t have any real conversation on this plane, either. How can you, really? Talk is just about superficial stuff; we can’t even talk about work since we’re on a commercial flight. I pick up my truck at the airport and decide to head straight home. I know Daniel thinks we’re heading for the SGC but if we’re gonna have this out, it sure as hell ain’t gonna be with a base full of witnesses. I feel him stiffen when I pass the turn that would take us to base. “We have to talk and we can’t on base.” I offer. He just nods.

I start getting his stuff out of my truck. “What do you think you’re doing?” God, I have missed that pissy tone.

“I think I’m unloading my truck.”

“You know what I mean, Jack.” He grabs my arm.

“Daniel, in case you hadn’t noticed, you don’t have an apartment to go to. So...”

“I’m not staying with you here.”

“Why not?” It’s out of my mouth before I think.

“You’ve got to be kidding!”

I just walk away and leave him in the garage, knowing he will follow me in. We might as well fight in comfort. I snag a six-pack of beer and lead the way into the living room. He takes one and drinks about half of it before he speaks. “It’s okay, Jack.”

“What’s okay?”

“That you don’t feel the same. I understand that this is my problem and I’ll deal with it.”

“Daniel, the honest truth is that I don’t know how I feel. You didn’t even have the decency to tell me face to face, you just ran like a scared kid.”

I can deal with his anger much better than this weary complacency. “I know, it was wrong of me to run but I honestly didn’t know what else to do.”

“You could have talked to somebody.”

“Who? Who, Jack? Who could I have talked to? Certainly not you. I couldn’t talk to Sam, that would have placed her in a horrible position. And the same thing for the general. Teal’c? I didn’t know if he would understand. So who was I supposed to talk to?”

“You missed a couple.”

He kills the rest of his beer before reaching for another one. “And that would be?”

“Fraiser. Catherine Langford.”

“Same thing as Sam, Janet would have been required to report anything that might have compromised the team. And I couldn’t have gone to Catherine, ever. ”

“Medical privacy would have protected you. Doc would have listened to you.”

“Water under the bridge, now.”

Suddenly, I’m the one who’s furious. “You son of a bitch.”

“What?”

“You talk about having no choices? Well, what about me? You took all my choices when you chose not to talk to me.”

”I know what you would have said.”

“Nice to be that smart and psychic on top of it. Hell, Daniel, I don’t even know what I would have said! No, you, you didn’t even give us a chance to find out.”

“What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

“Knock you on your ass.”

He grabs yet another beer. “You just proved my point, thank you.”

“Yeah, I would have knocked you down, but not for the reason you think. You think I don’t care anything about you? Do you think any of us had a nice Christmas, not knowing if you were even still alive?” To his credit, he blanches at that thought. “How the hell do you think I’ve felt these past eight months? I missed you so much sometimes it was like a knife in my gut. But I also know you and I know this is not just about sex for you. I know how you love. With your whole heart, wide open, full throttle, out there for anyone to see. The thing is,” I fiddle with the bottle, trying to sort out my words, “I’ve never loved like that. Sarah never got all of me. Hell, Charlie only got the parts of me I wanted him to see. Neither one of them ever saw as much of me as you did and for you to say you love me anyway, knowing what you know about me? Scares the shit out of me.”

He smiles, that soft smile that disarms dumb-ass Pentagon bean counters and love-struck alien princesses. And probably crazy French kidnappers. “I think I like the fact that I scare you.”

I swallow the rest of my beer. “You would,” I grouse good-naturedly. “All I’m saying is let’s just step back, take some time and see how things go. Just make me a promise. If things don’t work out, don’t cut and run again. Talk to me, come to me. We’ll work it out. If you have to transfer off the team, I’ll sign off on your request. Just don’t leave me again, okay?”

Disappearing into the kitchen, he comes back with a fifth of Jack and two glasses. He probably thinks I didn’t notice he failed to make me the promise I asked for.

“What’s that for?” I take the glass he hands me.

“You’re out of beer.”

“I didn’t have time to go to the store. Some jack-ass was holding a gun on my best friend.”

“Had to go rescue him, did you?”

“Yeah, he doesn’t have much sense when it comes to his own welfare. Probably get himself killed one of these days.” Our tender moment is interrupted by the phone. “Ten bucks says it’s either a pissed-off major or a pissed-off Jaffa. So why don’t you get that?”

It’s the Jaffa and I sit back and thoroughly enjoy Daniel trying to apologize for running off and worrying Teal’c and getting taken hostage and worrying Teal’c. I fill his glass up as he sits back down. “So how long ‘til they get here?”

“An hour. Teal’c said they’d stop and get dinner.”

“Good, just enough time to get you settled in the spare room.”

Daniel believes that staying with me is a supremely bad idea and proceeds to tell me why. I hate to admit it, but he’s right. So he’s gonna get a hotel room, until he can get another apartment. I helpfully point out the house right across the street is for sale. Daniel shudders and declines to join the ranks of suburbia, seeing as how he never actually lived like that in his life and frankly, it scares him.

*

Daniel just got off the phone from making another apology, this one to Catherine, when they arrive. Carter leaps on him the minute she clears the door, clutching him like he was her favorite teddy bear. Teal’c isn’t much better, he just about squeezes the boy’s guts out. I find myself on the opposite side of the dinner table, so I just sit back and watch the three of them together. And I see the spark has returned to Carter’s eyes and Teal’c’s face is more relaxed than I’ve seen it in, well, in about eight months.

Because I know how he feels about being truthful, I ruthlessly expose his flank. “Just so you two know, I asked Daniel to promise that he’s not gonna go off half-cocked again but he was suspiciously silent on that subject.” Although he might lie to me and to himself, I’m betting he’s incapable of lying to either of them but most especially Teal’c.

Teal’c is a step ahead of Carter. “Daniel Jackson, I ask for your promise that you will not leave us again in this manner. It was most distressing for all of your family.” Good one, T, go right for the jugular of guilt.

He has the grace to hang his head in shame. “I’m sorry, but I had some stuff I had to work out. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I will have your promise?”

“I promise I’m not going to disappear again.”

Teal’c appears satisfied. For the moment. “I have volunteered to ascertain that you are not given the opportunity to disappear again, Daniel Jackson. I have requested of General Hammond that you be given the quarters directly across from mine. I will be keeping both of my eyes upon you at all times.”

A knock at the door keeps Daniel from assuring Teal’c he doesn’t need to be tucked in at night. I open the door to find Dr. Fraiser and, surprisingly, General Hammond on my doorstep. Standing back, I let them in. “I’m guessing you’re not here to see my handsome face. He’s in the dining room.” I foresee an excruciating physical in Daniel’s very immediate future. What he gets now is a protracted hug from the doc and another one from the general; judging by Daniel’s expression, he is shocked beyond words.

We all troop into the living room, Daniel and Carter sprawl on the floor while we old fogies make do with the chairs after I pass out the coffee.

Daniel has to tell the story of the hostage situation in Paris, which he does very reluctantly, so I finish it up for him, embarrassing the hell out of him. The conversation turns to catching Daniel up on what he has missed, who’s doing what with whom. The general pretends not to hear these bits, and I marvel at how Teal’c picks up all these little tidbits. It must be the living on base thing. 

“Daniel Jackson, I believe you are tired. Are you ready to return to base?” Daniel blinks heavily, before agreeing; he was nearly asleep on Carter’s shoulder. We transfer his stuff from my truck into Teal’c big SUV. If anyone wonders why he isn’t staying with me, they don’t question it. I think we all feel better knowing T has his back. He probably isn’t going to be able to take a piss without an escort for quite a while.

*

I meet Teal’c, as requested, for breakfast the next morning. Daniel has a breakfast meeting scheduled with General Hammond; I’m guessing they are discussing the terms of his return to the SGC. After we eat, the big guy asks to speak to me privately so we proceed to my office.

“Okay, Teal’c, shoot.”

“O’Neill, what is the nature of your disagreement with Daniel Jackson?”

I dig for breath. “Wh...what do you mean?”

“I have reached the conclusion that Daniel Jackson left because of you. I wish to know the nature of the situation that caused Daniel Jackson to flee.”

“Why do you think it’s my fault?”

“Last night, you did not endeavor to persuade Daniel Jackson to remain in your home, nor did he express such a desire. We have not seen Daniel Jackson for eight months and I believe you grieved his loss as greatly as any of us. Under any other circumstance, you would be most relentless in your pursuit of his presence in your home. Yet, neither of you felt it necessary to do so. This is unusual, given your past history.”

I have to hand it to Teal’c, no one can cut you off at the knees quite like he can. “Good guess there, T, but what happened between Daniel and me is best left between us. I’ve asked him to give it some time and if he can’t rejoin SG-1, I’ve agreed to let him transfer to another team.” I hold up my hand. “It’s the best I can do, Teal’c. It’s either that or chance his running again. And I know he gave you his word...”

“Do you believe Daniel Jackson would take flight again?”

“I wish I could tell you I’m sure he won’t, Teal’c. But I think we need to give him his space.”

*

So that’s what we do, we give him some breathing room. We step back, let Daniel get comfortable with us again, let him find his place in our lives. He might be back with us physically, but part of him, possibly the best part of him, is still on hold somewhere inside until he figures it all out.

He doesn’t trust himself to be alone with me, won’t come to my house unless he knows Teal’c or Carter will be there. He will sit with me in the mess because there are other people to form a buffer between us. The comfort level we used to have with each other is gone, to my sorrow. I’m not sure that I can ever give him what he wants. Personally, I think he can do much better than me. 

But this morning, after the briefing, I think I saw the first real smile on his face in a very long time. I know there was a big stupid grin on my face, too. And before I knew it, I was asking him to come over to watch a game with me.

“I thought hockey season was over?” His eyebrows taunt me.

“Tape, Daniel Jackson, is a wonderful thing. Seven o’clock, bring your own beer. There ought to be plenty of it at the liquor store, since you’re the only person in Colorado who drinks that crap.”

And just like that, we’re right where we need to be.


End file.
